


Kinktober 2018

by TheDirtyBirdie-Archive (TheDirtyBirdie)



Series: Drabbles [4]
Category: Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fuck Or Die, Inflation, M/M, Masks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:58:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDirtyBirdie/pseuds/TheDirtyBirdie-Archive
Summary: A series ofcompletely unrelateddrabbles forKinktober 2018, as requested by my lovely readers ♥





	Kinktober 2018

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** _Please, take into account that this is a kink specific event. Individual drabbles will be marked with the kinks for that day, but as a rule of thumb, it's gonna be nasty. Proceed with caution._
> 
>  
> 
> * I've tweaked some of the requests for various reasons.  
> 
> * Drabbles are 0% connected.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Today's Kinktober Prompts:** _inflation, masks, deep-throating, face-sitting._
> 
> [ [Prompt Request] ](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/tagged/k18d01/chrono)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Need to Know:**
> 
> * Peter's a virgin  
> 
> * not picturing any particular iteration of the characters, so imagine whichever you like best  
> 
> * Tony's been put under a spell by _whoever_ that essentially results in an intense physical need and capacity to fuck  
> 
> 
> That's it. Please, don't look for extensive logic, there is none.

Before his knees even hit the carpet he feels the scrape of Tony’s blunt nails over the sensitive skin of his neck, burning up, work-worn fingertips dragging across his cheeks as he tugs his mask up, just over his nose, with enough frantic energy that he can feel his own chest buzzing with proximity. Or maybe that’s just the nerves- hard to say. The feeling only grows when he settles back on his heels, swelling inside his chest and making him sweat, hands shaking where they’re curled up with knuckles dug into his thighs. 

He looks up at Tony, and isn’t sure whether it’s fear or anticipation that coils tight in his abdomen when he sees the face of iron man staring down at him. He’s always found the suit intimidating- how could he not- but he’s never experienced the feeling quite so intensely as he is now. 

It’s hard to say whether it’s weakness or- something else- he doesn’t know where to start in identifying what he feels, right now, but he opens his mouth to ask Tony to take off his mask and doesn’t end up having a chance to get more than “Mr. Stark, could you-” out before the armor is receding over Tony’s groin, cock bobbing forward, leaving a wet mess down Peter’s lips and chin as it goes. 

When he pulls back in surprise, stunned into silence by the sudden uptick of his heart at the sight- the  _ feel _ of Tony’s cock, beating so hard it nearly hurts, that he barely has time to register the warm, unyielding touch of Tony’s armoured hand, fingers curling in his hair, before the older man’s hips are pushing forward as he stuffs his cock down Peter’s throat. It’s impossible not to gag at the painful burn of Tony forcing himself into his throat, impossible not to flinch back wholly, eyes losing focus with almost nauseating intensity, struggling just to stay open as they cloud with tears. 

He tries to push back, shoving against Tony’s thighs hard enough the muscles of his arms ache, but with Tony still in his suit it’s impossible to get anywhere. Tony’s half murmuring, half choking out desperate apologies above him, and Peter half wishes he could look at him- get his eyes to focus and clear long enough to see what he’d find there- but the better part of him knows it wouldn’t make any difference, so instead, he simply does his best to stop the bile that wants to force its way up his throat when Tony pulls back and forces himself back down Peter’s throat with no reprieve at all. 

* * *

* * *

When Tony finally gives him a moment to breathe, he sways dangerously, panting and doing his best to think about anything but the slick mess he can feel pooling around his lips, dripping down his chin.

“Please, Mr. Stark-” He rasps, but Tony’s fingers go tight again, and all he offers is a simple, quiet plea to “Breathe through your nose, kid”, before stuffing himself so far down his throat that it doesn’t particularly matter  _ how _ Peter tries to get air, it’s not going to happen.

* * *

* * *

By the time Tony takes hold of him properly, wrapping his fingers around his already aching jaw and holding tight enough that Peter imagines- at least he  _ hopes _ it’s just imagined- he can feel the bones creak under his touch, Peter’s gone hard under his suit and he’s not sure if the mess quickly pooling there makes him want to laugh or cry.

Tony’s been mostly reduced to grunts and groans, at this point, breathing so heavy Peter can feel it reverberating through his body. His fingers dig into the skin of Peter’s cheeks as they force him down until Peter can feel the tendons in his neck straining to the point of pain as he struggles not throw up, fists thumping over Tony’s thighs, ineffectual and only half intentional. There are tremors running through his body, eyes squeezed shut and tears running down his face, hardly important with everything else that’s already there, and the sensation of Tony finally, finally spilling down his throat feels like half relief, half sickness.

* * *

* * *

The way Peter falls back onto the carpet, Tony’s sure it’s only half-intentional, with the way he’s breathing. Like every last bit of breath has been choked from his lungs- it probably has been.

He wants to think the little hitches in his breath are just from the strain of everything, wants to believe the tears on his face are just- just biology- but he knows they’re not. This never should’ve happened. He never should’ve  _ let  _ this happen. Should have, at the very least, sent Peter away the second he’d realized what was wrong, the second he’d even suspected it.

Should have given the kid credit, never given him the chance to catch on- smart as a fuckin whip, to Tony’s pleasure. A little too much so.

He, most especially, should’ve never given Peter the time to  _ offer _ himself, meek and hesitant, like somehow Tony was the one getting a raw deal, because by the time he’d gotten that far, Tony had already been in too deep to say no. A part of him is thankful that Peter had the sense to insist Tony use his mouth- he’d insisted it was just ‘more pragmatic’, quicker, easier, etcetera, etcetera, but it had been easy enough to see the truth. See the obvious nerves- fear, even, hidden under the teenage bluster and the almost pathological need to help, in any way he can. Tony had seen it, and he’d  _ burned _ .

Tony looks at him, lying breathless and hazy on the floor, thinks about how wrong this was, how Peter had never touched a man before today. Thinks about how much he’s already taken from him, and- and how much he still could. He wants to stop- they both  _ need _ him to stop, but- but the coiling in his gut that should be melting into something soft and warm goes even tighter, instead. Tony’s sick with himself, fighting a losing battle against the need to drag Peter close and take whatever he has left.

* * *

* * *

In the end, he hasn’t got much of a choice, at all.

It takes very little time for the spell to prove that if he tries to stop before he’s sufficiently  _ relieved himself _ , the spell will simply wait him out, drive him to it until there’s near nothing of  _ him  _ left. And however gentle Tony wasn’t, he’ll be worse like that.

* * *

* * *

He kneels over Peter’s chest, and as sincerely as he means the whispered apologies he makes as he drags the boy’s mask off entirely to look at the dazed expression covering his face in full, he suspects his words lose some of their sincerity when he can’t resist the temptation to drag his cock, slick and slow, down Peter’s face.

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark.” Peter rasps, eyes shining, and Tony stops his lingering to pull back and slip himself past Peter’s lips at least in part because he can’t stand to hear the grate of his voice, know how it got there.

* * *

* * *

This time seems better, for both of them. Tony’s able to go a little slower, his urgency has lost a little of its edge, so long as he doesn’t stop moving, and Peter licks and sucks, makes little noises that almost make it sound like he wants this. Like he’s enjoying it, but that’s- that, somehow, still feels like too dangerous a thought to explore, so Tony just snaps his hips down a little harder and hopes it’ll help.

* * *

* * *

Every time it gets a little easier, a little less desperate, and a  _ lot _ messier. He never quite manages to stop, and a small part of him wonders if it’s still the spell, or if he just- just  _ needs _ , and has let himself become selfish enough to take.

* * *

* * *

When he finally, finally goes soft, peter is a mess. He’s stripped down to his waist, too embarrassed to take off more than that, knowing Tony will see the mess he’s made of himself if he does. His lips are swollen and numb, his jaw aches so badly he can’t help slurring his speech, and he feels the slow tightening of a sticky mixture of sweat, saliva, and come drying over his skin.

Tony lifts him, and he wants to say something as he’s carried over to the bed, wracking his brain for something-  _ anything _ to say- while me may not typically come up with the right ones, he’s not used to being entire at a loss for words, but right now he feels too- too everything, too stunned and confused and  _ tired _ to say anything at all. 

Once he’s laying down, Tony steps back and for a moment his heart leaps into his throat, afraid the older man is going to leave and not entirely sure why, but he doesn’t. He just-  _ stares _ . He stares long enough that Peter feels renewed heat creeping up his neck and down his chest, until Tony reaches out to press down on the slight distention of his stomach, that  _ definitely _ hadn’t been there before, and Peter has to roll away and hide his face just to prevent himself from stroking out at the embarrassment of it. 

“Oh, god. Mr-  _ Tony _ , don’t-”  
“Jesus Christ, kid.”

Tony sounds so wrecked that Peter’s just about ready to turn back when the bed dips behind him and suddenly Tony-  _ all _ of Tony, warm and sweat slick and bare all over- is pressing up behind him, pulling him close with a hand spread wide over the minute swell of his stomach. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forgiving, I am sick as hell right now and 100% did not have the energy to edit ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to say hello below or [on tumblr](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com) ♥


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